Hamartia
by coeur de lyon
Summary: All flesh is as grass, and the roses are departed: Cain is going to save the world.


**Disclaimed**

Hamartia

_Recordare Iesu pie, Quod sum causa tuae viae:  
Remember, gentle Jesus, that I am the reason for Thy time on earth,_

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"You were perfect in your ways from the day that you were created, until lawlessness was found in you."  
_Ez.28:15_

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We die with the dying. See, they depart, and we go with them. We are born with the dead: See, they return, and bring us with them. The moment of the rose and the moment of the Yew tree Are of equal duration.  
T.S. Eliot _Little Gidding V_

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For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away. _1 Peter 1:24_

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In the heart of the RosenCourtyard there once was a Yew Tree. An old old old one. Born a thousand years or more ago. Withstanding armageddon and age. But not him. Because he hates that time, and he knew that when he started falling to bits more than usual it was because of that Tree, and all it stood for. He'd even ordered Isaak to bring the former owners of the old palace back to life, just so he could kill them for the audacity of letting such a tree live, all over again. But he (who always smells so nice. Like old roses on the breeze) said that he had tried and that the flesh was far too wasted to suffice.

"At least the tree is gone now," Isaak had crooned, stroking the downy wings, gently, tenderly pulling a silk-soft robe over his angel, covering his nakedness with what he thinks is love. Splinters so small and fine swirl around them, as Cain lets himself be led back indoors.

_That this earthly boundness is his penance for letting the world escalate to this point is something he understands none too well._

Dietrich had raised an eyebrow, remarked in passing that he'd certainly seen to the moment of the yew now, and he had laughed sweet stinkily. Gone back to the cognac in the deep cellar (even he'd chosen his poison) weaving his paranoia up around him like a cocoon. And Cain heard the way the ferrous terran blood gushed around his traitor body as he walked down the old gallery.

"Soon, my dear, soon, we must depart him." He tells Isaak, and he hears the way his heart flips a little in anticipation as he nods.

Beautiful Boy.

_That he is unstable is something that goes beyond his Lazarus body and nanoned mind to a deeper, more secret place._

_The scientists in alt Germanicus counted ten fingers, ten toes, 2 eyes and an appetite for Vampire blood. They forgot the teetering point of his soul._

Cain could have been good.

Cain _was_ go(o)d.

He knows he was. He knows that he was the good one, that Abel was the one filled with hate and that Lilith was the fool. And that Seth was filled with much too much and not enough (all at the same time)

To have done as she did.

And he knows that now that everything has gone wrong he must repair it…

(alone)

He would have thought that Abel would have seen it his way, and that Seth would have followed him adoringly anyway. But he bows to terran rulers (grown comfortable in the lap of strange luxury that is like nothing he has seen in 900 years) now. And she does play that very part herself far more often than the tea-seller she feigns to be.

_He, at least, wouldn't ever forget the reason for his time on earth._

"_Recordare_, Isaak." He murmurs, and Isaak has understood.

_A just Jesus, but a Gentle one._

The walls are spattered with new blood now, and Cain drinks deeply. Isaak is sifting through the draining bodies feverishly, to where Dietrich lies, crumpled up. He says that they can still use him, for when they spread out over the outposts throughout the world. Use the power of the Panzer Magier and the strings to break, blow, burn and make all new. But Dietrich had fought them, and his body was broken.

He could not even utilise any of the lithe limbs when they were through.

Such a clever boy.

_Though not enough to see that They isn't contramundi at all. At all._

Isaak sees his anger, and gently brings his messiah to his breast.

"All flesh is as grass," he whispers. "All flowers must be deadheaded." And Cain is unsure why the words are spoken so consolingly. But he is soothed, nonetheless.

The world has grown up wrongly, in the time of his remembrance. Twisted and black, and _alt_ as the hills. All he wants to see is it restored to the rose. Let others be consumed with hate and destruction. Cain would transform it. Grow it up again, trellised nicely (without thorns) and this time around the prettiest flowers of all would flourish and

(be enough)

Cain would be go(o)d.

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Ka mutu

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a/n: I have no explanation. Sorry about all the quotes, but I had to chuck them in or else it would've taken too much explaining. The only one that is alluded to but not quoted up the top is Sonnet XIV by John Donne.

Title is the term used in greek tragedy to describe the flaw in the makeup of the hero that makes everything fuck up. in a very lateral classical studies sense. Brilliant people have told me what it actually means, but it suited my purpose to use it this way…

**In terms of plot:** Basically, Cain and Isaak decided to wage a revolution on their own organisation, before taking on the rest of the world. Ask me, if you want a better analysis.

Cheers for reading.


End file.
